


Unknown Artist

by VenomQuill



Series: Undertale AU Misc. [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, This Song and Dance again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Frisk is alone, wandering the streets as she does while her older sister, Cameline, is at work or with her boyfriend, Charlie. Today she meanders into an alley, following a tune she has never before heard.
Series: Undertale AU Misc. [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521479





	Unknown Artist

**Author's Note:**

> Find it on dA: http://fav.me/de2ntp0

Frisk, head down and hands in her pants pockets, meandered through the dulling streets. School was out, but Cameline was at work. So, Frisk had some time to be alone.

Alone.

She hated being alone.

Frisk could feel tears stinging behind her eyes, but she ignored them. She herself was ignored as she walked.

Frisk found herself wandering through a cement and brick back alley. The roads here were dirtier and ill kempt, just like the buildings flanking it. Frisk’s downward thoughts were interrupted by a piano. Curious, Frisk stopped and listened. A melodic, quiet hum went with the slow, practiced tune. Then, the pianist’s noise stopped and turned into a rhythmic, sad tune.

“He said…” the voice hummed in a sad, sweet melody.

The voice took a deeper tone, _“‘Oh Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?’”_

_“‘Come with me, and you’ll be, the seventh maid in a row.’”_

The singer’s voice leveled out again. “My answer was laughter, soft as I lowered my head.

“You’re too late, I’m afraid, this flower’s already _dead_.”

The piano quieted a little as the singer went on, “Resetting as I was, with blossoms in full bloom.

“Never a chance to pause with magic to consume.

“A shadow walked behind me offering his hand,

“But couldn’t understand.”

The voice took a deep breath and continued, “He said,

_“‘Oh Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?’_

_“‘Come with me, and you’ll be, the seventh maid in a row.’_

“My answer was laughter, soft as I lowered my head.

“You’re too late, I’m afraid, this flower’s already _dead.”_

The voice quieted, allowing their guitar to continue its song for a long while.

“Scattering petals down the road without an end,” the voice whispered.

“Left on the battleground for one I called my friend.

“Maybe he loved me as he took me by the hand,

“And tried to understand.”

Another breath and the voice was louder. “I said,

_“‘Oh Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?’_

_“‘Stay with me, I can't see, anywhere that we could go.’_

“Their answer, was laughter, as darkness swallowed them up.

“One more time, I’ll be fine, sometimes kindness is enough.” The voice broke a little, but otherwise stayed strong, and even continued with fervor.

_“‘Oh Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?’_

_“‘Don't leave me, please don't be, the seventh maid in a row.’_

“My answer, a whisper, soft as he lowered his head.

“Set them free, I'm sorry, this flower's already _dead._ ” The pianist quieted, but the tune lingered for a few more moments until silence overtook them.

There was a shuffle. Suddenly, the piano music started again. The tune was louder and spunkier. “As sly as a fox, as strong as an ox,” the voice began with a little more gusto.

“As fast as a hare, as brave as a bear,

“As free as a bird, as mean as a word,

“As quiet as a mouse, as big as a house.

“All... I wanna be…

“All... I wanna be…

“Oh oh oh! All... I wanna be–” The voice hummed and went on, “…is everything!”

A few moments passed and she went on, “As mean as a wolf, as sharp as a tooth,

“As deep as a bite, as dark as the night.

“As sweet as a song, as right as a wrong.

“As long as a road, as ugly as a toad.” Something struck an empty container like a drum–most likely the boot of the pianist.

“As pretty as a picture hanging from a fixture.

“Strong like a family, strong as I wanna be.

“Bright as day, as light as play.

“As hard as nails, as grand as a whale.

“All… I wanna be.” The piano rang over the back alley as well as the beautiful voice. “Oh oh oh! All… I wanna be,

“Oh oh oh! All… I wanna be

“…is everything.

“Everything at once.

“Everything at once.

“Oh oh oh, everything at _once_.”

…

The music began again, and the voice went on, “As warm as the sun, as silly as fun,

“As cool as a tree, as scary as the sea,

“As hot as fire, cold as ice,

“Sweet as sugar and everything nice.

“As old as time, as straight as a line.

“As royal as a queen, as buzzed as a bee.

“As stealth as a tiger, smooth as a glider.

“Pure as a melody, pure as I wanna be.

“All... I wanna be,

“Oh oh oh! All... I wanna be,

“Oh oh oh! All... I wanna be,

“…is everything.

“Everything at _once._ ” The voice and the music stopped suddenly.

There was shuffle and swish of a bag and click of a few locks. Then, the person above, whoever they were, strum a few practice notes of a guitar and made a small adjustment.

Then, a new song began, led fiercely by a guitar.

The voice started in a hum and then broke into a song. “I thought I saw the devil, this morning.

“Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue,

“With the warning… to help me see myself clearer,

“I never meant to start a fire,

“I never meant to make you bleed.” A crack in their voice, and then a pause.

“I’ll be a better man today,” the voice went on.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good.

“And I’ll love the world, like I should.

“Yeah, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.

“For all of the times that I never could.”

The guitar went on for a little while all alone.

“My past has tasted bitter for years now.

“So, I wield an iron fist.

“Grace is just weakness,

“Or so I’ve been told.

“I’ve been cold, I’ve been merciless,” the voice’s tune wavered.

“But the blood on my hands scares me to death.

“Maybe I’m waking up today.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good.

“And I’ll love the world, like I should.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” The hummed the last line again.

“For all of the light that I shut out.

“For all of the innocent things that I doubt.

“For all of the bruises I’ve caused and the tears.

“For all of the things that I’ve done all these _years._ ” The voice’s song dragged out and the guitar went on with a passion.

“Yeah, for all of the sparks that I’ve stomped out.

“For all of the perfect things that I doubt.”

There was a short pause.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be good.

“And I’ll love the world, like I should.

“Yeah, I’ll be good, I'll be good.

“For all of the times I never could.” The voice lowered to a long series of drawn out hums until finally, the voice whispered, “For all of the times I never could.” The guitar eventually tuned itself out.

Frisk shut her eyes and smiled wider. God, this person had a beautiful voice and ability with instruments. The artist played a few tentative notes on the piano, which quickly turned spunky again. Frisk grinned. There was so much passion in the voice and the song, Frisk couldn’t help but dance with the tune. She stepped carefully to be sure none of her clumsy steps would interrupt the song.

The artist sang a few more of the songs, and then went on to sing a few more Frisk knew: “ _Don’t Deserve Your Love_ ” and “ _You Are my Sunshine_ ,” which they played with their piano, “ _Close to You_ ” and “ _Be Somebody_ ” with their guitar.

Frisk’s phone rang. The artist sucked in their breath and stopped playing their latest song– _“Be Somebody.”_ Frisk picked up the phone _._ There was a swish of stuff being stuffed into a bag. Within a moment’s notice, Frisk heard the tapping of footsteps as the artist fled. “Wait!” Frisk called, running up to the wall at the end of the alley. “Wait, I’m sorry! Did you not… want to…?” Frisk let her words die off. The artist was gone.

Frisk frowned and sighed. The call had gone to voicemail. Immediately, the phone rang again. “Hey,” Frisk answered.

“ _Frisk! What the hell? Why didn’t you answer?_ ” Came Cameline’s sharp voice.

“I’m sorry, I was a little busy,” Frisk explained, looking back up at the wall. “Anyway, what did you want?”

“ _Well, whatever. Just don’t do it again. I’m off work. Where are you?_ ”

“In the city.”

“ _Seriously, Frisk. Where are you? Find a street sign or building or something.”_

The next day, Frisk managed to get away from Cameline and go back to the back alley where the artist was. No noise came from the other side of the wall. So, Frisk sat and waited. She waited for so long, her eyes shut, and her head tipped back to rest against the wall.

“I thought I saw the devil this morning.”

Frisk opened their eyes and sat up. The artist was back, and now quietly sang and played a guitar. Frisk smiled and listened to the song for a while longer. Eventually, the tune changed as did the song. The longer the artist went on, the more confident and passionate they became. Frisk, knowing she herself was a terrible singer, decided to dance to the music instead.

Again, Frisk’s stupid phone rang. Again, the artist took off like a startled bird. Again, Cameline was demanding to know where Frisk was and to come back for another training session.

The next day, when Frisk arrived, she turned off her phone and waited. She heard the shuffle of footsteps and bags and the artist found their perch and went to their songs.

This time, however, as the artist played the first song Frisk had come to hear, Frisk sang along. At first, the artist wavered in their song, but quickly got over it.

Once the song tapered off, Frisk prompted, “What was that one?”

“ _Secret Garden_ ,” the artist answered quietly.

“Where’d you come up with it?” Frisk prompted.

“…well… this next one is _Everything at Once_ , in case you didn’t know.” The artist went on to start playing the song in question. Frisk smiled and sang along with them. Frisk didn’t continue asking questions, even when the song was finished. Instead, she sang along with the songs the artist played.

Frisk jumped upon feeling a hand on her shoulder. “Frisk! What are you doing here?” Cameline snapped. She looked up at the wall. “Who are you?” However, the artist was not there to answer. They had run off again.

“Hey!” Frisk ducked out of her grasp. “That was really rude! They’re really shy.”

“Why are you out here in the middle of nowhere, anyway?” Cameline demanded. “You should be at home.”

“I just wanted to listen to their songs,” Frisk crossed.

**Author's Note:**

> So, an unnecessary AU where Frisk and Chara live in the same time period and the same city. They both have a lot of personality from _["An Unloved Bird Can No Longer Sing,"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439767/chapters/48493103)_ with some differences. Chara can play multiple instruments (most notably the guitar, piano guitar, and somewhat knows the drums), and can sing fairly well. But she's shy and flighty--like a bird! Frisk is not at all shy and can be very friendly, but she's blind and you really don't want to hear her "sing." In fact, in the earlier versions of _"An Unloved Bird can No Longer Sing,"_ Chara _did_ sing. I believe it was "Secret Garden," but it might have been something more centered around Chara and Frisk's friendship. She didn't have an instrument, though. I cut it out because it really didn't make much sense where it was.
> 
>  **Song list:**  
> ["Secret Garden"](https://youtu.be/wH3bMZXA4W8) by EmpathP  
> ["Everything at Once"](https://youtu.be/eE9tV1WGTgE) by Lenka  
> ["I'll Be Good"](https://youtu.be/scd-uNNxgrU) by Jaymes Young


End file.
